The Consolation Prize
by CatalynMJ88
Summary: With same-sex marriage back in California to stay, Nic and Jules must decide whether they "need a piece of paper from the city hall." Ficlet for "The Kids Are All Right" (2010)
1. Little Green

**1. Little Green**

It was the last Saturday morning in June. Lazer was sleeping in. Jules was gardening in the backyard. Nic was taking out the compost, because it was her turn to do it last night and it'd look really shitty if she kept putting it off while Jules was working out there.

Nic tried not to focus on the grubby pits and peels, or the warm pungent blast that greeted her when she opened the composting barrel. She turned her thoughts to the dark freckles on Jules' face and shoulders, spreading in the summer like wildflowers in the grass. A single red lock had slipped from Jules' ponytail and clung damply to the concave curve between her collarbones and breasts.

"What?" Jules grinned. She'd caught Nic looking.

"Nothing," Nic smiled. She turned the compost barrel. "You're really pretty."

"Aw, stop," Jules blushed.

It had been four years since the infamous Summer of Paul. And while remembering still gave Nic a visceral punch of "fuck no"- never in a million years would she be grateful- she had to admit they'd grown stronger from getting past it.

After Joni left for Stanford, Lazer convinced his moms to go to couple's therapy. The therapist never gave them weird vibes for being gay, which was great, but she was really too young. Barely older than Joni, young. Born after the _Challenger _explosion, young. She read to them from the textbooks: about communicating more, reimagining the work roles in the family, and even (cough, cough) reconnecting physically…

Nic and Jules bonded more from making fun of therapy on the drive home than they did from therapy itself. Not that they ever told Lazer that.

The truth is there was no quick fix. Not the therapy, not the evenings of candlelit bubblebaths, not even the wine-tasting weekend in Napa for their twenty-fifth anniversary. The healing came from daily, deliberate efforts. Self-conscious little statements like "I appreciate when you do that," or "you were right, I'm sorry," or "I'll try harder."

The healing came from years of hard work, turning the mess around again and again until it became something clean and productive and real. Something like Jules smiling, flattered, and humming "Little Green" as she pulled weeds. Something like Nic smiling too, even as the mud from the outside of the compost barrel stained her hands and jean knees.

"Hey Moms!"

Nic and Jules looked up. Joni waved from the back porch. Jules squealed and ran to her. Nic sat still a moment, surprised.

"You… got a haircut! It's- wow!"

"It's different, huh? Shorter than yours," Joni teased. "I wanted something low-maintenance for my gap year."

Jules pulled Joni into a long hug, rocking side to side. Nic pulled herself to her feet, tried to wipe off her hands, gave up, and came over. "Sweetie, you're going to Argentina, not Mars."

"Tierra del Fuego, hon," Jules noted. "With the crunchy science geeks. Something tells me they don't shower as often as the kids teaching English in Buenos Aires."

"True," Nic smiled.

She watched Jules run her hands along the pale peach fuzz where Joni's hair had once been. "Did you donate the stuff they cut off?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

"That's our girl."

"I like it," Nic declared. "It's very cute."

"You've got the face shape to pull it off femme," Jules added. "Not that it matters, I mean, as long as you like it…"

"Thanks, guys."

"How'd you get here so early?" Jules asked. "I thought you were coming in tonight…"

"I drove down yesterday and stayed over at Sasha's. I wanted to surprise you," Joni explained. "I thought I'd help you get everything for the Fourth of July."

"Aww, how sweet," Jules cooed. "Oh, but your mom's shopping for the picnic. Not me."

Joni arched an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah, well, I've got like a ton of clients that want their spaces ready for the holiday, and I've got a new consult in…" Jules glanced at her wristwatch. "Shit!"

She pecked Joni on the cheek, Nic on the lips, and darted inside, looking back over her shoulder to admire her daughter's new 'do. Joni smiled and waved back. She rolled her eyes knowingly at Nic. Nic gave her a muted, thoughtful smile in return.

She remembered the outdoorsy preteen who had to be lectured to tend the wheat-colored bird's nest that was her hair, but refused to get it cut even remotely short because it would be "boyish." "Like Nic's," is what she meant, but was too tactful to say. Nic got it: the girl needed to individuate herself from her biological mother, 'be her own person' and all that crap. And waist-length hair was cute on Joni once she got down the brushing habit.

But now? Joni's new look was G.I. Jane, edgier than anything either of her mothers had ever done. Her hair might resemble Nic's customary pixie in a month or two. By then she'd be ten thousand miles away. And homesick maybe?

"You look beautiful," said Nic. "I'd hug you, except, well-" she held out her arms. Black, slippery mud covered her hands and splattered up to her elbows. "This is all from the compost, you believe that?"

"What'd you do, drop your car keys in?" Joni teased.

"No! This is from the outside! I swear, some of those freaking worms escaped and are eating through the yard. The ground all around the barrel is just… fecund."

"Fecund? Hm," Joni mused. "There's a word you never hear. It fits, though."

"I know, right?"

And mother and daughter walked inside together, side by side.


	2. Solid Foundation

2. Solid Foundation

Nic cleaned up while Joni dropped off her stuff. They grabbed brunch at Joni's favorite local-organic place. Then they drove out to Free City, where Nic treated Joni to some new clothes that she _so_ didn't need for Argentina. Joni knew her mom's angles, and the anxious but sincere generosity that kicked off most visits home. She braced herself for stage two. Sure enough, on the ride back to Simi Valley, the grilling began.

"So how was the summer term? Did you like teaching?"

"Assistant teaching," Joni corrected. "It was alright. The prof said I did well."

"Did she give you a letter of recommendation?"

"I don't think teaching's really my thing."

"Oh." Nic forced a nod. "Okay. That's cool. That's, you know, the beauty of college. You get to try out jobs and, sometimes, you figure out what you don't want."

A silence grew between them. Joni leaned her elbow on the car window and her chin in her hand. The wind whipped easily across what was left of her hair. Everything felt so bare. Two days ago she finished grading papers, went out and got this haircut on a whim, shaved her legs for the first time this summer, and started packing. Now here she was hairless, jobless, dateless… And after four years at Stanford, losing the guarantee of returning left her feeling a little homeless.

"It's just," Nic started again. "It's still an opportunity to get a general letter, you know? Just from someone who's worked with you, knows that you're smart and hardworking and up for anything. Research? Field work? Queen of the Universe?" she teased.

"Okay," Joni giggled. "I'll shoot her an e-mail. Geez, Mom."

They moved on to other topics. Jules' landscaping business was flourishing. Joni and Lazer's grandparents were all in good enough health to visit on the Fourth. Sasha was going on for her MFA and dating a nice guy, finally settling down a little. Lazer was transferring from community college to UC Chico with a track and field scholarship.

"I'm not surprised he got a scholarship," said Joni. "But I always figured it'd be for soccer or basketball, you know? A team sport."

"I know, right? But you should see him run, honey. He's just so… _focused. _It's kinda eerie."

"Is he gonna live on campus?"

"No. That's the nice thing: He's commuting to save money, and so your mom and I don't get so lonely."

And just like that, the space of the Americas stood between mother and daughter. Joni looked down at her folded hands. Nic pulled into Whole Foods. A giant rainbow flag was draped just inside the front windows.

"What's that for?" Nic wondered aloud. "Pride week?"

Joni jumped at the happy distraction. "I think it's for _Holllingsworth v. Perry. _Sasha and I were talking about it last night. You know her dad went to law school with one of the plaintiffs' lawyers?"

"That's neat. …Remind me what that one's about?"

Joni gaped. "Same-sex marriage in California?"

"Right. That. How'd it go?"

"Well they _won_."

"Oh, good."

Joni was incredulous. Nic showed more investment in the outcomes of Lazer's soccer games. Even the preseason ones. Nic pulled their grocery bags out of the trunk. Joni shut the hatchback with a little more force than needed.

"It's not just _'good'_, Mom. It's fantastic! Every gay couple we know can get legally married now. Including you and Mom!"

"Yeah, I got that, Joni. It is fantastic: for history, and for couples just starting out who wanna tie the knot. It's great."

Nic's tone clearly said 'end of discussion.' They grabbed a cart and headed inside. Air conditioning and fragrant fruits and flowers soothed Joni's nonplus. They roamed the vast slate floors and wooden-crate displays for all their party staples: Nic's steaks, the berries and yogurt for Jules' famous red-white-and-blue parfaits, Lazer's favorite spinach chips…

It was in front of the fresh heirloom tomatoes that Nic suddenly burst out:

"You know I didn't see the _Star Wars _trilogy until Lazer was in kindergarten? I mean, I like scifi- I always have. My girlfriend in college wanted to take me to _Return of the Jedi _but I just couldn't. It was so damn popular that it was tacky, what with everyone and their mother was camping outside the theater. I just thought, no way."

"So… that's why you don't wanna get married? Because it's gonna be trendy?"

"Well that, and... Sweetie, we already did. I mean, not legally." Nic grabbed some tomatoes and pushed the cart onward. Unlike interrogations, she preferred to make confessions in motion. "But you've seen the pictures hanging in the stairwell, of both of us in dresses on the beach with that bad 80's hair?"

"Yeah, and you wrote your own vows, and all your friends were there, and your parents surprised you by showing up, and you and Jules smashed cake in each other's faces. I've heard the stories, like, a million times."

"Well did we ever tell you why we did it? Why that commitment meant so much to us, in _1990?_"

Joni knew that leading tone; Nic used it to drop hints when she helped Joni study for tests in middle school. 1990. What was the importance of that? The year before Joni was born?

That was it.

"Aww, Mom…"

"It's just: marriage is supposed to mean a lot to the people going into it."

"Yeah, of course…" And Joni was touched, thinking that Moms did all they could to lay a solid foundation, even symbolically, before bringing her and Lazer into the world.

Nic dabbed her eyes on her t-shirt sleeve. "Great, now you got me all sappy…"

Joni laughed. "Let's go get some wine, okay?"


End file.
